


Define: Envy

by powerandpathos



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Birthday, Chinese New Year, Christmas, Ferris Wheels, Hand Jobs, He Tian is jealous af, High School, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerandpathos/pseuds/powerandpathos
Summary: He Tian is jealous. Based on an ask/request I had to do a one-shot on a love triangle between He Tian and Guan Shan – or at least have a jealous!He Tian because of She Li/loosely motivated by She Li.





	

They watch a movie, something apocalyptic about a plague break-out.

Normally it’s the kind of thing He Tian would enjoy, because it’s interesting and kind of frighteningly morbid, and by the end of it no one lives, and because Guan Shan is next to him. But this is the second movie he’s seen where She Li is sat on the other side of Guan Shan and he keeps whispering to him through the film.

And He Tian’s hands are in fists on his thighs, and he wants to tell She Li to shut the fuck up. But that would mean leaning across Guan Shan, and he doesn’t want to make him that uncomfortable.

So instead he has to sit there and watch Guan Shan’s fingers touching She Li’s in the fucking popcorn. Watches as She Li whispers an apology when he uses Guan Shan’s straw _accidentally._ Watches as She Li climbs over him to go to the bathroom and accidentally trips, accidentally has his hands either side of Guan Shan’s head and his face nearly touching his and even Guan Shan must know it wasn’t a fucking accident, right?

But for some reason Guan Shan doesn’t really care about things like that around She Li. Doesn’t seem to be nervous or scared or – or even turned on around him, which He Tian supposes is a thin sliver of opportunity. But it makes him fucking impossible to read. And He Tian can only wonder if maybe this weird, calm nonchalance is how he is around people he likes. It’s not the kind of thrumming, trembling that he cloaks himself in around He Tian. That he is, somehow, reduced to.

The lights come up eventually, and She Li and He Tian say nothing as they wait in the foyer while Guan Shan goes to the bathroom. He Tian is used to silences. He’s not used to someone not looking away first, and She Li’s gaze is just as steady, but his eyes aren’t even stinging when Guan Shan comes back and looks at them, frowning.

He Tian wants a cigarette.

‘What are you doing now?’ She Li asks Guan Shan.

‘I—’

‘He’s staying at mine,’ He Tian says.

‘He is?’

‘I am?’

‘Yes,’ He Tian bites out. ‘He is.’

‘Uh,’ says She Li. Because there’s not much else he can say. ‘Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?’

Guan Shan shrugs. ‘Sure.’ It’s noncommittal. _I don’t care if you do_ , it says. It makes He Tian feel like he’s won.

They get the subway back, and it’s full of date-goers, nuzzling into each other’s necks, stealing kisses from each other, and late night workers and people heading to their shift. He Tian has never got the appeal of kissing on a public train where everyone can watch. Something tastes funny in his mouth to watch, and the sound of it is the worst thing: other people’s saliva. The romanticism of it is lost on him.

It doesn’t stop him from wrapping a hand around Guan Shan’s stomach as they sway on the train. Doesn’t stop him from relishing the closeness of it, the declaration of _mine_. But it’s more than that; it’s that every time the train stops too sharply, every time there’s the push of bodies against each other, He Tian feels so intimately that he’s keeping Guan Shan firm, grounded. _Him_. And if his fingers slip beneath his shirt sometimes, if his thumb brushes across the skin of Guan Shan’s stomach, well. That just happens. It’s an _accident_.

‘Thanks,’ Guan Shan says at one point, when the train screeches and everyone moves like they’ve been caught by a wave, and there are half-laughs and someone swears and other people let in sharp intakes of breath as someone treads on their toes or pushes an elbow into their stomach. And Guan Shan doesn’t move because He Tian’s arm around him is like a vice, and when someone, who at first had given them an odd look, grumbles because their coffee spilled, they look at He Tian like he’s actually got the right idea.

He Tian leans down. His lips brush his ear and he can _feel_ him shiver. ‘You’re welcome,’ he says.

* * *

They have to do a sketch from a film set in the Sui Dynasty in Drama class, and there aren’t enough girls so the teacher nominates Guan Shan to play the main girl. It gets some laughs, but Guan Shan scowls until it turns kind of awkward and self-conscious, and He Tian scowls because it means that he has to be She Li’s _wife_.

She Li plays the part of the emperor, and the girls in the class are swooning because he’s just about as roguish and sly and disrespectful as any emperor has never been. He makes Guan Shan laugh once – or, well, roll his eyes and his lips tilt upwards, but He Tian thinks it’s close enough, and he can’t help it when his own lines come out clipped and bitten and _moody_.

‘Very good, He Tian,’ the teacher says, because he’s playing the General so maybe he’s meant to be a hardass, but He Tian wants to say it’s not because his commitment to the fucking _arts_.

They get into costume, because the teacher wants to film it and submit it for the departmental review she’s got coming up, and He Tian notices only how Guan Shan looks weirdly _good_ in the traditional Chinese dress, how the black wig makes him looker paler and makes his eyes brighter and his lips darker and he doesn’t… Doesn’t look _bad_.

The teacher calls for action, and they’ve pushed the tables in the classroom back enough that She Li can sweep in with his robes trailing like he’s a fucking priest.

The teacher makes an ‘OK’ sign with her thumb and forefinger, and She Li launches into some dramatic, patriotic spiel about China and its farmers and the integrity of the poor and He Tian drowns him out after a while.

Guan Shan is quiet and his sullenness is mistaken for modesty, and the teacher says she _loves_ how accurately he presents the lonely, somewhat scorned bride while her husband prepares for war.

At one point She Li gets closer, and he’s taller than Guan Shan, so it’s not hard for him to stand and stare down and put his hands on Guan Shan’s shoulders, staring at him like he’s staring _in_ him.

They deliver their lines, waxing lyrical about themselves and using some poor metaphors about nature and war that make He Tian scoff and roll his eyes (makes the teacher glare at him because _he’s on camera_ ), and She Li is leaning in and his hair is long so he won’t _actually do it_ , but if fucking looks like it and Guan Shan’s eyes are getting so wide and He Tian—

Well. He doesn’t wait to push She Li out the way. Doesn’t take the time to smirk when he stumbles against the back of the desk, and Guan Shan hasn’t even moved so he takes it as invitation.

‘What are you—?’

Really, it’s like middle school all over again, but this time he’s holding Guan Shan’s face and not his neck, and Guan Shan – he knows this, because he asks the teacher for the copy of the film later – shuts his eyes, leans into him, and it must go on for a minute? Two? And Guan Shan only pulls away because there’s too much silence and the sound of the teaching clearing her throat is loud.

‘What are you _doing_ , He Tian?’ she says. She’s stern, but not as stern as she probably should be, because He Tian’s smiling at her with that helpless, old boy charm. Some of the girls have their phones out and they’re lowering them, slowly, back under the desks. He Tian wonders how many social media sites they’ll be on by the end of the day.

‘I thought I’d improvise,’ He Tian says, and when the teacher stares – when _She Li_ stares – he just shrugs and bites down on his tongue so he doesn’t smile. ‘Wouldn’t it be more dramatic if the General was having, I don’t know, an affair with the emperor’s wife? Brings a personal and public crisis to his failing life? I just—I just really get _into_ acting, you know?’

* * *

It’s He Tian’s birthday on Christmas Day, and his uncle isn’t home, so he buys some food that’s already made and he can microwave. Can heat in the oven if he’s feeling ambitious, which, really, he isn’t.

He hasn’t gotten out of his pyjamas, and he’s smoked a pack of cigarettes already in celebration.

So far he’s had two texts: Jian Yi (he’s dressed up as Santa and is wearing nothing but a red jacket and his underwear; apparently his mother has taken the day off work and they’re doing nothing but watching the box set of Home Alone), and a begrudging one from Zhengxi who invites him over for Boxing Day. He Tian thinks about Zhengxi’s sister. His parents. Jian Yi. Doesn’t, really, see himself in that image.

She Li, too, sends him a text. He Tian can’t help but read it with sarcasm because that’s how he wants to read it. And because he thinks that, probably, it is. He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t know what She Li is doing for Christmas. He doesn’t really want to know either, mostly because he can’t stand the idea that he’s probably spending it with Guan Shan.

He gets drunk alone and falls asleep by midday on his bed, and he hasn’t eaten anything but a bag of crackers and some cold, pre-made noodles he bought from the store on the corner of his block the day before. Heating up the ready-made Christmas meal in one is, apparently, too ambitious.

It’s 4pm and dark outside when the doorbell rings, floor-length windows crept over with cold air, and it must have been going for a while because it doesn’t end and neither does the knocking and the buzzer is just being held down now and it’s a low drone that makes his head pound..

It takes him a while to get to his feet, because he’s still drunk and he hasn’t turned any lights on, and when he opens the front door the hallway strip lights are blinding.  

‘Yeah?’ he says, arm across his eyes, doesn’t care that he’s being rude because who the fuck rings anyone’s doorbell on Christmas unless they were expected?

‘How much have you had to drink?’ is the first thing they say, and it’s a voice that He Tian immediately recognises. It makes his eyes focus, makes his head clear a little, and he just stares.

Eventually Guan Shan pushes his way through, takes in the unmade bed and the empty cracker box on the bed and raises an eyebrow. It’s a remarkably unimpressed look.

‘What are you doing here?’ He Tian says, watches as Guan Shan heads into the kitchen. He’s carrying a bag, and brings out Tupperware containers of food – real food – that he puts in the microwave.

‘Mum’s gone to her shift at the hospital,’ Guan Shan says. ‘She kept some food for you.’

‘Sorry,’ He Tian says, falls onto the sofa that’s still hard because he’s never really sat on it much. Too hard even for sofa sex, back aching and head hitting the armrests.

‘Why are you sorry?’

‘’Cause I’m not really guest-appropriate right now.’

Guan Shan’s back is to him. He’s finding plates and turning the microwave on and already the apartment is starting to smell of Christmas – roast duck and almond cookies and five spice peanuts and He Tian’s stomach, blanketed with liquor, rolls slightly at the smell, but h can’t deny that it smells really fucking good.

In ten minutes there’s a meal on the kitchen bar, and He Tian hoists himself into a stool while Guan Shan plays a Christmas radio station on the TV and turns on the tiny Christmas tree by the toaster that lights up pink and purple and is, frankly, pretty pathetic as decorations go.

Guan Shan watches him eat. Snatches a handful of peanuts at one point and makes He Tian drink two glasses of water.

‘Why aren’t you at She Li’s?’ He Tian asks. Can’t help it. He’s feeling more sober, more _grouchy_ by the second.

Guan Shan stares at him. ‘Why would I be at She Li’s?’ he says, chewing.

‘Why wouldn’t you?’ He Tian says. And then he says, ‘Are you only here because your mum is at work?’

Guan Shan helps himself to a beer from the fridge, and he’s frowning when he looks at him. ‘I told you I was coming here.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘Yes,’ says Guan Shan slowly. ‘Yes, I did.’

‘When?’

‘Like, on the last day of school? When I said see you later last night?’

‘People don’t really mean _see you later_ when they say _see you later_ and—’

‘That’s fucking ridiculous.’

‘—I thought you were joking.’

‘Why would I be joking?’

‘I don’t know. Because She Li was there? I thought you might have been, I don’t know, mocking me or something.’

‘Because you’re on your own?’

‘Yeah,’ He Tian says. And it sounds fucking ridiculous to his ears now. He can’t quite understand the logic of his own words. Maybe it’s because he’s drunk. Maybe it’s because people only say things drunk what they mean sober.

‘I wasn’t mocking you. I’m here because I want to be.’

‘You want to be?’

‘Yes, you creep. God. Wasn’t it, like, _clear_?’

Yes is the answer. But He Tian knows that clarity and sense is lost when it comes to Guan Shan, and he’s far less… Put _together_ than he used to be. Didn’t used to be like this. Used to be the one that had things in control – that was _controlling_. He wonders if it’s She Li – if it’s some male, dominant psychosis. Wonders if it’s the challenge. He thinks it’s that, the jealousy. But he thinks it’s probably something else too.

He sighs. Guan Shan scrapes the plates into the bin and loads the dishwasher when He Tian’s finished eating. He feels better, but he’s pretty sure if he eats anything else he might throw up in the sink. Guan Shan pulls He Tian by the arm to the bed – he knows the sofa’s hard too – and they lie there and listen to a choir singing Silent Night and let the kitchen lights are dimming.

It’s not perfect, because He Tian’s getting a hangover already, and because this is probably not how Guan Shan wanted to spend his evening, but tomorrow he thinks that they can have sex in the shower and watch TV until it starts to get dark, and then they can go to Zhan Zhengxi’s and maybe get drunk and – maybe he’s already got plans. Maybe he doesn’t want to spend time with him after this. But He Tian imagines it anyway.

‘Merry Christmas,’ He Tian says.

‘Happy birthday,’ Guan Shan says.

It’s ten minutes before he falls asleep, and he thinks it’s probably sad how Guan Shan, warm and real and watching him and not saying anything, really, can make this the best birthday he’s ever had.

* * *

When it’s Valentines Day, He Tian gets to watch She Li give Guan Shan a card and a rose – because they’re just _really good friends_ – and also the newest Final Fantasy game for his PS4. Guan Shan tells him he shouldn’t have, because that’s a lot of money, and She Li tells him that he should because every time they come over they have to play the same game.

‘No such thing as altruism,’ He Tian remarks dryly.

She Li gives him a weird look, and Guan Shan clears his throat, and He Tian doesn’t care that he’s made things awkward. Let it be awkward. Let him highlight She Li’s faults if Guan Shan won’t see them.

‘Well?’ She Li says, and it’s a challenge, and they both look at him, and He Tian doesn’t miss that Guan Shan keeps glancing at him from the corner of his eye.

‘Well?’ He Tian echoes.

And neither of them say anything, and the bell rings, and they head off to class. He Tian takes Advanced English, and so does Guan Shan, so they sit next to each other and He Tian likes it because the tables are close enough together in that room that he can put his arm around the back of Guan Shan’s chair and press his leg up against his if he stretches. And Guan Shan used to complain – used to make enough of a noise that the teacher would tell them to move, but then the next time Guan Shan didn’t say anything and He Tian sat and laughed a silent laugh because he realised Guan Shan liked it enough that he didn’t actually want him _not_ to.

‘What are you doing later?’ he murmurs. It’s the sixth lesson they’ve had on how to talk about holidays in the past tense, and most people in the class can only talk about how they went to the Yellow Mountains or Xi’an so many times before it gets embarrassing.

Guan Shan shrugs, and He Tian wants to tell him to stop shrugging because he makes him feel… Sort of unwanted. Like Guan Shan can’t really… _engage_ with him. And because that’s the kind of response he gives to She Li and he doesn’t want to think of himself like She Li.

‘She Li asked me over his.’

He Tian nods. What else can he do? ‘And did you say yes?’

‘Haven’t decided yet.’

He Tian looks at him. ‘Waiting for a better offer?’

Guan Shan says nothing.

‘There’s a fayre in the city,’ he tells him, can’t help but keep his tone vaguely nonchalant like he doesn’t really mind if he comes or not. (He knows, really, that he’s a big fucking liar.) ‘Fancy a go on the ferris wheel?’

‘All right,’ Guan Shan says.

‘Yeah?’

‘All right.’

‘What about She Li?’

And Guan Shan shrugs. ‘I didn’t tell him yes,’ he says. And this time He Tian doesn’t care.

He grins the whole way through his speech about his trip to Thailand last Christmas.

* * *

They kiss on the ferris wheel. Well, He Tian also jerks him off so he comes when they get to the top. But it’s the kiss he remembers. Because it’s breathy and slow and Guan Shan is warm even though the February air is leaking through the uneven windows of the cart they’re hanging in.

‘Well,’ He Tian says. Catches Guan Shan as he stumbles from the cart because he’s not _clumsy_ , but He Tian knows he’s _done_ that to him.

They eat candied apples and He Tian wins him a bear at the shooting range and ignores Guan Shan’s look when he hits the target every time.

They go on the rides even though He Tian starts to get the idea that Guan Shan is afraid of heights as much as he is of being in fast, uncontrolled moving objects, but he squeezes He Tian’s hand tight enough and clings to him enough that He Tian makes him bear it for a little longer.

Eventually they find somewhere quiet for the firework show, close enough that they’re still lit up by the faint flashing lights of the rides and the stalls – Guan Shan, sometimes, looks like he’s made of it when He Tian glances at him – and far enough that they can’t really hear the sound of the mechanics and the sound of screaming and delirious laughter.

‘I didn’t buy you anything,’ He Tian says, sitting next to him, legs stretched out in front of him. He knocks Guan Shan’s foot with his.

‘I couldn’t get you anything,’

And the fact that he says this is exactly why He Tian didn’t. Didn’t get him some stupid card to put on the mantle piece – a picture of a cartoon dog holding a heart on the front wasn’t really his _style_ – or buy him a rose that would only die. Or buy him some stupid game because that wasn’t how he wanted to spend his time with him.

And maybe She Li, he had to admit, was being thoughtful. Maybe he was doing the Valentine’s Day _thing_. But was Guan Shan the sort of person that bought into that whole commercialised scheme? Not really.

‘Guess we’re even then, aren’t we?’ He Tian says.

‘Guess so.’

He Tian glances at him, and when the fireworks start he holds his face in his hands and kisses him, and yes he knows what the feeling in his stomach is. He knows what that wash of calmness, of rightness is when he holds him. Knows it so well even if it’s the first time.

They break apart, and small pieces of ash from the fireworks are falling around them, onto their skin, in their hair, and it looks like it’s raining fire from above.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day,’ he says.

And Guan Shan smiles.


End file.
